


Personal Deep Throat

by WeirdAlterEgo



Series: Hideyhole [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010)
Genre: Alfred knows everything, Cunnilingus, M/M, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Sex Toys, it's just Jason brooding, really mild, trans!Tim, unbetaed hot mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdAlterEgo/pseuds/WeirdAlterEgo
Summary: "I expected a harder chase. What's the catch?" he hears from behind him.Fucking finally.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Hideyhole [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016472
Comments: 14
Kudos: 172





	Personal Deep Throat

**Author's Note:**

> 1.) guys, I have no plot for this. I just write for fun. we bounce some ideas around on the discord server and I run with some. that's... pretty much it. (you can also suggest stuff, as long as nothing is expected of me! ;) )
> 
> 2.) in case you didn't know, Deep Throat was the name of the informant/whistleblower in the Watergate Scandal.
> 
> 3.) hard plastic, glass, metal and non-porous silicone are safer sex toys than porous stuff. check the internet, because you can catch some serious stuff from cheap and crappy sex toys.
> 
> 4.) a group of bats is a cauldron. how cool is that?!  
> 

For the record Jason knows it’s a terrible idea.

He has no illusions, knows he will fuck little Timmy again. He won't say no when Robin finds him again, and he will, since the damned kid has decided to fixate in him, but... But the idea of Bruce and his terrible, disappointed gaze looms over him like a giant sword of Damocles. (Ready to swing down and cut Jason’s dick off for maximum emphasis.)

He stares at the flickering flame of the match in his hand, thinks for a moment about staying in the bar, letting it all burn up around him. It would be better for everybody involved if he was gone. Bruce and Alfred would perhaps mourn him a little, but secretly they would be glad they could go back to remembering Jason as the good little soldier instead of the big bad Red Hood.

Tim would be sad, of course he would be. Maybe for a minute. Before he found someone else to fixate on and fuck their brains out. Kid’s a sex kitten in the making (and Jason isn’t envious of Bruce, for there will be droves of crazed boys - and men - trying to vie for pretty little Timmy’s attention soon enough that the old man will have a hard time scaring off, even with a shotgun.)

Oh Jason knows it would be better for his family if he were gone. He knows it in his bones. But he knows he can do good for Gotham. He can do better than the Bat. He can clean up Gotham’s underbelly, something Bruce would never be able to accomplish.

He came back for a reason, there _has_ to be one, he thinks, and he is going to clean Gotham from the bottom up, even if it got him killed again.

But he’s not dying tonight.

He flicks the match before it burns his fingers, the heat stinging his skin for a second. He watches as the match lands, flame spreading out on dry wood and sticky alcohol. It feels like fucking Christmas, finally doing away with this part of his past. He gives a sardonic salute to fucking Willis before he gets out, straddling his bike before he speeds up and away, narrowly missing the first firetruck en route.

***

Tim has a toy chest.

He keeps it under the floorboards, for there is no real safe place or hideyhole that can escape Alfred’s watchful eye. Or Bruce’s, when he tries, but these days he doesn’t. Still, Tim hopes Alfred respects his privacy, because he couldn’t ever look the butler in the eyes again if he saw someone has gone through the chest’s contents.

It is in fact a metal box with a combination lock that Tim can open in his sleep. (It's more complicated for others, but he has no illusions that Agent A wouldn't crack it in seconds.) This is where Tim deposits the cleaned little drink bottle and the golf balls. He thinks Bruce’s tendency to keep trophies might be rubbing off on him. Or perhaps, there are other… things in play. He thinks if Tim can get Jason to unwind a little, perhaps they could revisit the golf balls again. Tim rather liked last night, and the way home. Jason has a delicious sexy mean streak, and Tim wants more of that.

This is one of the reasons Tim appropriated the 3D printer in the cave to print himself a custom-designed Red-Hood-red dildo. It’s from medical-grade silicone, non-porous and safe for multiple uses, and Tim is pretty sure the measurements check out.

He doesn’t print himself toys often, because the steps he needs to take to do it unnoticed are numerous, and there is always the chance that Bruce or Alfred walk in on him while the thing is almost finished, and well… There are just some things Tim would rather die than discuss with the two older men. Or you know, have them see.

It’s different with Dick. With him Tim can, and has talked about things. (After all, who else would have mentioned the _other_ uses of the medical grade silicone Bruce keeps stocked up for the 3D printer?)

There is a reason all of Tim’s toys are custom made. Because he has abused his 3D privileges and custom printed them all. The first one, the one whose prints he found in a well-hidden, buried under old case files and clutter folder, that one Tim printed from black plastic without knowing who modeled it. And _used it_. Often.

Imagine his mortification about a year later, when Dick admitted that he had modeled his own dick to make himself a toy. So that the next time someone told him to fuck himself, he could grin, go home and _do just that_.

Tim still has it, would loathe to part with it, but doesn’t use it anymore for obvious reasons. _Whoops_ , right? Accidents happen. Sexy accidents. Sexidents…

Let the people who never accidentally 3D printed a dildo of the likeness of their big brother’s penis _and then used it_. A _LOT_. Well, let those boring, very normal people cast the first stone.

Anyway, once Tim learnt of the silicone he hardly ever went back for plastic. It had a nicer feel, and that’s absolutely what he wants right now. Because he has a feeling it’ll be a lot of frustrating days or even weeks before he can convince the Red Hood to give it to him like Tim _really_ wants him to.

That said, Tim takes no time to sneak back up with his prize to hide out in his room (“I’m fine Alfred, thank you, no need to come in!”) and once he has checked via mouth and throat that the measurements check out (they did), he undid his pants and boyshorts to crouch down and position the thing.

He teases himself with the tip (he remembered to add the foreskin, idly wondering if Jason wasn’t circumcised from the start or if it just grew back in the pit), he teases himself a lot more than he needs to, driving himself crazy with need before he tilts it back and sinks down on it until he touches the bottom edge.

While the bottom was designed to be flared, with the customary hint of roundness of the balls, he also designed it to be a little hollow, so it could act as a suction cup, not like Tim plans to use it like that at the moment, no.

He has other plans.

Carefully, using one hand to keep the dildo in, he pulls his shorts and pants back up, until he can be sure the toy wouldn’t slip out. And then he walks over to his desk chair and straddles it backwards, eyes fluttering shut as he sinks down on the partially-slid out dildo. On _Jason._

He reaches down to adjust his pants, so the shorts hang a little lower, giving the dildo a little leeway to slide out as he lifts up and then he slides back down, imagining he is sitting, straddling the Red Hood himself.

Tim wasn’t an exhibitionist by nature, preferred his sexytimes behind closed doors, concentrating on his partner, but with Hood, with Jason he can’t help but imagine riding the man while his underlings sit around the table, wide-eyed, mute as Tim works on their boss until he too is a wide-eyed, tongue-tied mess, or perhaps a gibbering, drooling one. But all the same, it ends with the Red Hood unloading into Tim, roaring and sobbing with pleasure.

And then Tim stays there until they discuss whatever they discuss during those meetings, listening in for intel until the Red Hood is ready to go again, bouncing Tim on his cock without a care in the world.

Tim stops riding his new dildo when his legs give out on him and his lower half feels like jelly. He can’t pull it out yet, it’s too complicated a move right now (he should have planned better, but he just can’t keep thinking straight where Jason or the Red Hood are involved), so instead he sits on Jason’s likeness and tries not to clench down again, lest he repeats this vicious cycle.

He _absolutely fails_ , so he ends up turning the chair around and humping the toy to a very happy, but tired orgasm, until his movements get him pushed up against his bed, and then he just flops over and squirms, kicking pants and shorts off until he can finally get the toy out.

He reaches down to find his wet wipes, does the best job he can, drops Jason in and pushes the box under the bed. He is too tired for anything more and can only pray Alfred will be discreet.

His last thought before he drifts off to sleep is that he really can’t wait until he gets to fuck Jason until he is unable to form sentences.

***

Jason broods.

He has a problem. A rat problem, it seems, and he can't figure out who it is. He could, if he had the time, but every second he spends trying to rat the bastard(s?) out, more drugs cut with dangerous and deadly shit are being dealt to kids and sex workers alike, and only when he is not around.

Any time he holds a meeting or inspects the troops, the fuckers swarm his territory with their deadly shit. Dealing out death in little plastic bags, melting into the woodwork when Jason goes out to do a sweep. And nobody can ID them.

This can't stand. The Red Hood is losing face with every day he lets this stand. And Sionis is gloating. And of fucking course he is untouchable, the fucking prick, unless Jason is willing to start an all-out gang war that could swipe Gotham off into martial law.

No. He would need intervention of the leathery-winged kind. Luckily he has caught the attention of one of the cauldron, and all it takes is standing still long enough until Timmy can hone in on that tracker Jason noticed as soon as it touched his gear.

The question is: would Jason be willing to pay Timmy's price? And would he have to? A kid Robin's age can change his mind at the drop of a hat, after all.

And Jason has no illusions. He is mean, big, and isn't exactly from the right part of town. Add to it his dip in the lime green goo, and Jason is not holding his breath. He knows pretty little Timmy will bore of him soon enough.

And damned if that doesn't make him feel maudlin as he stands on top of a warehouse in the Bowery.

He checks his watch again, because he expected to be mobbed the moment he stood still somewhere that wasn't a safe house or a mob meeting, but he has apparently been here, smoking for the last fifteen to twenty minutes, unmolested. Little Robin must be losing his edge... or the interest.

_Fuck._

Jason hoped it was just the Bat keeping Timmy busy, because he really needed the kid's help now. He taps into their usual frequency, listens to Agent A doing his usual droll thing as he guides Batman through the process of getting into... hmm. Sounds like the Diamond District, he thinks, but there's no mention of Tim.

"I expected a harder chase. What's the catch?" he hears from behind him.

 _Fucking finally_.

***

Tim is expecting everything from an ambush to a cease and desist order with a side dish of Bruce showing up and telling his sons to stop this incestuous relationship (even though the are not blood related and have never lived under the same roof together, ever). He has carefully thought-out rebuttals for every declaration Jason could say, but the one he hears.

"I need your help."

Tim snaps his mouth shut and tries to gauge Jason's reactions from his body language alone. That damn red headgear of his is really not endearing itself to Tim. Even if it looks pretty cool and having the added benefit of voice modulation *and* air filters is really nifty, not to mention possible heat vision and...

He rips his mind forcefully back to the present. Which is Jason, asking for Tim's help. With... something.

"What do you want?" he asks instead.

"Some people, Sionis' goons are spreading drugs laced with deadly shit. On _my_ turf. What I could find from the police reports is they are not picky. Shit was laced with rat poison, washing powder, the deadlier the better. They do it when I'm looking the other way, undercutting the prices of the guys under my thumb, dealing to _kids_. And I can't do a goddamn thing to stop it, because I can't catch them. Some asshole is ratting out my every move to Sionis. And you know what'd happen if I moved against the Black Mask."

Tim sighs. It was presumptuous of him to expect Jason showing himself so willingly would be for sex. He should have known it wasn't a booty call.

Tim pushes down his disappointment and nods.

"What's your plan?"

"I have a list of places and times for you and the big bat. It might not make his list, but I was hoping you could bag Sionis' goons for me. Any time I'll be otherwise occupied you can go where they usually pop up, all you have to do is lie in wait and catch them. I also have pictures of my usual guys. Should you clock any of them, you just say so. I'm not against you helping me catch my rat for me."

Tim nods. This sounds straightforward, and it involves no criminal activity on his part. (Except for ratting the rat out, should he see them.) And best of all, Jason is asking for help. He is trusting Tim enough to reach out for help.

Tim thinks, even without sex they have taken a big step forward.

"All right," he agrees. "Will you be wanting to send it over, or..."

"No." Jason's posture changes then. While he was holding himself rigid, at attention before, he is slouching now, a hand going to his belt buckle, accentuating his cup.

Tim swallows. Tries to get his mind out of the gutter. Fails utterly as he licks his lips.

"To be honest, I thought you'd have a price, little bird," he says, the lazy drawl coming out haltingly, which Tim thinks is not a coincidence or the fault of the filters. No, this is the Red Hood trying to initiate. "And my guys are out right now on the streets, making sure nobody gets hurt on my turf without my say so. It's not like we are in a hurry right now..."

Tim shudders. Looks up, narrows his eyes at the expressionless mask. If they really are doing this, and Tim is suddenly certain they are, the mask is the first thing that has to go.

"I do. Take your headgear off. I want to see your face."

The Red Hood reaches up. There's a hiss and then he pulls the mask off to reveal matted hair that he rubs into a bird's nest with his other, and that he still has his domino on underneath. Tim's a bit disappointed. He has been longing to see Jason's lovely blue eyes again.

"Now what, little bird?" Jason asks him quietly.

Tim shivers. Apparently they are really doing this.

He thinks for a conflicted second, because this will be a new step in their relationship, and then he says fuck it and stalks up to Jason to tug on his shoulders until the older man dips down and Tim can kiss him for the very first time.

It's good. Not magical, or earth-shattering, but not bad. Jason tastes like cigarette smoke and stale coffee, and apparently a shy kisser. Either that, or he is hesitant to kiss Tim like he means it, which Tim takes offense to. This is why _he_ kisses Jason like he means business, until the big bad Red Hood breaks off, panting and dazed, staring at Tim with the damn domino in the way.

"Shit kid..." he mumbles as Tim says "Would you take your domino off if I asked?

Jason considers him for a long moment. "Maybe."

"I want it off," Tim breathes.

Jason sighs, and then he reaches up, peeling the thing off, and Tim's breath catches. He wants to tell Jason he is beautiful, that he shouldn't be scared of Tim, for Tim can read the terror loud and clear in those eyes... Instead he just kisses Jason again. Hopes it drives Tim's point across, loud and clear.

They don't separate until Tim's lips are feeling raw, and then he pulls back a little, staring up into Jasons eyes that are teal now, greener than before, but still ever so lovely, and Tim wants to take a photo, he wants to take many, but instead he steps back.

Jason puts his domino back on.

"Sorry, baby bird, but I have an identity to protect."

Tim sighs. "Fair."

They stare at each other. Tim with mounting anticipation. He wonders if Jason would agree to his request...

"I want to ride you," he tells Jason.

The reply is swift. "Absolutely not! Out of the question! We're not safe here. And can you imagine if the Bat or Nightwing passed by? I don't fancy getting my ass shot to ribbons by my own guns."

Tim pouts. While Jason has a point, he still wants it very, very much. And really, while he likes blowing Jason, it's getting a bit repetitive.

"Aw hell. C'mere!" Jason says, pulls Tim into an alcove that would be hard to spot from nearby buildings and by grappling vigilantes.

They breathe against each other for a second before Jason sinks down in a single, fluid movement that leaves Tim lightheaded.

Tim hops to like he is one of the speedsters. He didn’t think Jason _would_ , that he would _offer_ … He disables the traps with shaking fingers, lets Jason peel his tights off, shivers as the cool Gotham air nips at his at his overheated skin.

Jason pulls his legs apart as much as they can with the tights around his calves, bends and pushes his legs out as much as he can. "I sure hope Dickie spent imparting some of his vast knowledge on you because I'd hate to put your hip out," he drawls before Tim feels warm fingers on his hips, inching up until they can pull his lips apart.

Tim thinks "oh shit this is really happening" wonderingly as he feels Jason’s hot breath rufling his pubic hair. The heat of it on his exposed skin makes him shiver in the chilly night air. The first, warm lick of Jason's tongue makes him want to tell Jason that given the circumstances, he's perfectly fine with his counteroffer, thanks very much, but when he opens his mouth, he can only moan.

His head hits the concrete wall behind him. He ignores the grime and dirt undoubtedly coating it as he reaches up a hand to tangle his fingers into Jason's hair. Only he can't feel a thing, because he's still wearing gloves.

Why is he still wearing gloves anyway?

He peels off one glove after the other, letting them hit the ground somewhere next to Jason's, and then he can finally get his hands, unhindered, on Jason, tangle his itching fingers into the silky locks while the man eats him like an ice cream cone. He tugs Jason higher, to _please_ go where Tim really wants him, almost curls up and puts the poor man in a chokehold with his thighs when that clever tongue circles Tim’s clit.

He mewls and screeches so loud he’s afraid someone would come to check the noises out, or worse, call the cops, but he can’t _stop_.

Tim would be horrified if Jason wouldn't be still at it, if there wasn't a finger sneaking into Tim's wet pussy while Jason's tongue laps at his clit with licks so gentle Tim wants to coo. He settles instead on stroking the sides of Jason's face, cradling the back of his head like delicate china while his thighs shiver and shake, wanting to close over Jason like a clam's shell.

There's a startled second, when something larger than a finger (or two) is pushed up inside him, sliding easily up since Tim is so, so wet, while Jason's tongue flicks against his clit in maddening spirals. The thing is a cold and thick presence deep inside Tim, Jason's tongue is warm and relentless, and Tim comes before he is really ready for it, sobbing from the waves of pleasure washing over him.

He's still shivering from aftershocks while Jason rights him. He stays propped against the wall as Jason redresses him with gentle fingers, redoing the traps like they are nothing (then again, it's no surprise, he was once a Robin, after all.) Tim is still nice and woozy, would probably let Jason do whatever he wanted. Not like he would, he is still too good a man for that, Tim knows now.

When Tim is dressed, albeit with whatever Jason pushed up him _this time_ , Jason leans over him, face suspiciously clean. (It's not like Tim preferred him sloppy, but apparently Tim misses a lot after a good orgasm, _or a dozen_. He takes a note of it for next time.)

"Had fun, little Robin?"

Tim nods.

"Wanna return the favour?"

Tim nods again. Enthusiastically. Does he ever. Once his legs start working, and he can find words. He rummages around in his pouch, because he remembered to restock on condoms, pulls one out and proudly offers in to Jason.

They trade places. Tim kneels down in a less than graceful slump, but hey he still did it! And when he looks up he is rewarded by the breathtaking sight of the Red Hood's angry red erection. He sucks it down like a banana milkshake, bobs on it like he has been waiting for the chance all day long. (He kind of has, don't shame him.)

Jason doesn't have a chance. Also Tim probably had a hand in working the man up so well, he comes after a minute of being down Tim's throat with a groan that must get them reported. Tim sees at least three lights getting turned up in the nearest building, shuffles a little into the darker corner, squirming on the newest of Jason's insertions.

He lets Jason right his clothes and allowed the man to pull him up. He is still a bit weak-kneed, even though he is slowly getting the hang of walking around with things stuffed up him.

It's an experience he's getting rather fond of.

They lie against the wall side by side, Jason chuckling while they can see heads popping out of windows, gothamites trying to spot a vigilante or a baddie being beaten to a pulp. Or you know, the newest Ivy-induced orgy.

"Have I met your price?" Jason asks quietly.

His face is relaxed, mouth curling up, but it bothers Tim that he can't see his eyes. He knows it can't be helped, not yet. Soon, he vows, he will earn Jason's trust enough that they can meet in better places, somewhere they can be themselves, without the secret identities and body armour.

Tim _will_ make it happen.

And then he will lure Jason home, where he belongs. With Alfred and Bruce and Dick. With Tim.

"You have," is what he says instead, holding his hand out. "Where's your info?"

"I already gave it to you." Jason tells him, his grin turning absolutely filthy.

Tim shivers and squirms on the thing inside him.

"You didn't?"

"Oh, but I did," Jason chuckles, reaches over to run his hands up between Tim's legs. "The case is waterproof, don't you worry. There's also a phone number in there if you need to reach me, but only use it if it is an emergency. I can maybe explain away Tim Drake-Wayne calling me, but it'd be the end of me if they caught me with Robin."

Tim sighs, looks across the neon-coloured Gotham skyline, wonders whether he can find a safe place to remove the case before going home. But knows he can't. He can't chance it getting lost or ending up in the wrong hands if he does.

He gives Jason an annoyed look, thinks about asking that Jason _please_ stop sticking whatever he gets his hands on inside Tim, squirms a little, rubs his thighs together, feels arousal hit him again, and decides against it. He's pretty sure Jason would just do it anyway to spite Tim.

And it's not like Tim doesn't like it.

Ultimately, it's quite fun as long as Tim can ignore it while he gets home. If he can ignore it. Plus he hasn't fought with something up in him... so maybe he should ask Dick to train like that? Obviously without telling Dick...

Jason jerks him out of his plotting by asking "hey, Replacement? Everything ok?"

Tim blushes.

Jason's a terrible influence on him, really. Tim knows this is crazy, but he can't stop. Jason is the flame to Tim's moth.

"Yes. I'm fine. I'll relay the information to B without mentioning where it came from. If he won't, I can try and move in on them, maybe work with Gordon, if he is willing."

"Thanks, baby bird. I appreciate it."

Tim smiles up at him, thinks about a kiss, but Jason is already turning away, picking up his gloves and headgear.

"See you next time, baby bird!" he yells, and with a wave he is gone, jumping off the building, leaving Tim alone with his thoughts.

***

Alfred is up in the kitchen, puttering, when Tim gets back.

"Would you like some shortcake, Master Timothy?" he asks, and Tim knows from the tone of his voice he has no choice in the matter.

He is being judged.

"Thank you, Alfred, I'd love some," he says instead, and sits down at the table. The waterproof USB case feels solid and unyielding in him, but he can hold out until this interrogation is over.

Alfred hums as he serves Tim, pouring him some tea to go with it.

They sit in a quiet, comfortable silence. Tim knows it is not his place to break it, so he waits patiently and chews.

"I haven't told Bruce, but since you have been acting rather distant, as a precaution I have checked on your suit's tracker," Alfred informs him.

Tim swallows the bite of cake down, busies himself with chasing it down with tea until there is nothing in his cup.

Alfred refills it solemnly.

"I have checked back and I have seen you have been in Crime Alley and the Bowery in the last week or so."

Tim looks up. He knows the ruse is up. But Alfred hasn't told Bruce, so surely...

Alfred is looking at Tim with all the sadness of a mourning parent. And that just can't stand, because Tim knows. Tim knows Jason loves them, he loves them so much he tried to drive them away, he must have.

"I know about Jason," he whispers. For it is a secret that cannot be screamed off the top of his lungs. Not here, not among these walls.

Alfred nods.

"As I suspected." He doles out more cake, and Tim dutifully scarfs it down. "Has he... Was he angry? Has he harmed you?"

Tim blinks at that.

"No!" he says feeling strangely indignant. Jason probably didn't take to being replaced all that well, but he never once harmed Tim. Tim feels strangely insulted on Jason's behalf. "He was... is very nice to me."

He is. He always makes sure Tim comes. A lot.

Alfred hums, sounding unsure.

"He asked me for help tonight. People are getting hurt on his turf by Black Mask's men. He gave me intel I need to look over. He asked if I could ask Bruce to help put some criminals selling laced drugs to kids away. Without mentioning Jason. Bruce doesn't know I know."

He uses his puppy dog eyes on Alfred, hoping against hope the old butler wouldn't tell Bruce. That would be a surefire way to stop Tim's fun. (And possibly get Bruce on Jason's ass just as Jason predicted. Oh _shit_.)

Alfred sits and observes Tim over his teacup. Tim feels like a specimen in a jar, but doesn't dare to move. He lets Alfred draw his own conclusions until the old man lifts the cup and drinks it down.

"I won't tell Bruce," he tells Tim. "But I hope you will try to convince Jason to meet me for Saturday brunch sometime. I dearly miss the boy."

Tim smiles. Does he ever. That, he can do. That, in fact would be wonderful, the perfect foot in the door to draw Jason back into the fold. (As Tim's boyfriend, obviously.)

"I will!" Tim gladly promises Alfred.

"Thank you, Master Timothy, that would be splendid," the old butler inclines his head. "Now, I believe you wished to read through some intel?"

Tim smiles and stands up. He knows a dismissal when he hears one.

He runs up the stairs, biting back his moans as the case rubs against his walls, because Alfred would probably not be happy to learn just what Jason has been up to. Even if Tim is.

He makes it into his room and shucks his armour off until he can get the case out, which is nicely tied up into a condom. He chuckles. Tim should have expected Jason wouldn't just... stuff it in.

He rubs it down carefully with a wet wipe,and cracks it open, shaking out a waterproof USB stick.

Triple waterproofed. Tim isn't even surprised at this point. Trust Jason to be _very_ prepared.

He goes to take a very quick shower, and then he will plug that USB stick in and see what Jason had for him.


End file.
